


It Does Take a Village

by bellalinguista



Category: Rizzoli & Isles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-09 04:18:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1968732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellalinguista/pseuds/bellalinguista
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Takes place during season 5, pre 5x05.</p>
    </blockquote>





	It Does Take a Village

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place during season 5, pre 5x05.

_janie, i need a favor,_ Tommy’s first of a slew of text messages had read on Jane’s cellphone.

 

Jane had thrown her head back against the couch, a high-pitched whine escaping from the back of her throat. For the first time, in what felt like an eternity, she had been having a rather quiet night in – just her and Jo Friday. No call-ins, a perfectly good night off to mellow in front of the television, eating take-out and catching up on the couple of DVR’d games from the last couple of days.

 

After back-to-back cases, leave it to the universe to decide for there to be no murders in the city of Boston this evening, but to also decide that on the very same evening Detective Jane Rizzoli did not deserve this lazy night off for once.

 

_What?,_ her return message had been short, void of the grumbling and the contorted face Jane had made at it, one that would have sparked one of many arguments between Rizzoli siblings growing up ( _Ma – Janie made a face at me! – Yeah, we’ll YOUR face is always stupid! – Jane Clementine Rizzoli, APOLOGIZE to your baby brother!_ ).

 

A part of her half expected Angela Rizzoli to jump out from behind the couch to scold Jane – that would have been the cherry on top of her ruined night. Thankfully, or maybe even unfortunately, due to the mental images, Angela was away with Cavanaugh for the weekend.

 

_can u watch tj for me?_

Jane had already determined her answer, but…

_Why? Where you going?_

_i got called in and if i don’t show theyll fire me_

 

She could have given him her affirmation; she could have left it there…

 

_Where’s Lydia?_

_working night shift at the diner._

Then, there had been a bit of silence, but her phone soon vibrated once more, flashing the message she had been waiting for:

_plz jane!_

As though Jane could have said no to her adorable nephew – giving her baby brother a hard time, however… Jane could never pass that up.

 

_Okay, okay, bring him on over._

 

The second part of her evening began as any other time Jane had volunteered or agreed to baby sit: a frazzled Tommy, with an overstuffed baby bag slung around his shoulder, had dropped off TJ, showered Jane in thanks and compliments, but before scurrying off, he had made sure to point out that this – that watching TJ – was perfect practice for his little niece or nephew. At that point, Jane had helped him out the door.

 

The beginning of TJ’s visit had proven to be just like any other, despite Tommy’s warning that the poor little guy was not exactly feeling one hundred percent. Per usual, Jane had found herself gently rocking him off to sleep after he had had his bottle, all while she had continued to watch the game, keeping what would have been her lively, strong reactions and remarks at bay.

 

Jane had even managed to change him without a fuss before putting him down for the night, or so she thought. With TJ sleeping soundly, Jane had finished off her take-out and watched the rest of the game before turning in for the night herself.

 

It had been a peaceful night.

 

For a few hours.

 

TJ’s sharp, shrill cry had jerked Jane out of her sleep immediately and that shrill cry had her up going on another couple hours (was it a couple of hours? Had it even been a single hour? Crying babies, Jane discovered, caused time vortexes – one could never be certain how much time had passed since the first cry). Her frustration grew steadily with every passing minute. She now found herself circling around her living room, bouncing the wailing baby in her arms in an attempt to sooth him to no avail. She’d changed his diaper, again, even though the previous had not been soiled. She’d tried feeding him, but he wasn’t hungry, and despite that, she had even tried burping him, in case he was feeling a little bit gassy, but TJ was still crying in protest. Nothing that Jane did was calming him down.

 

“Come on, TJ,” Jane pleaded in between bouts of screeches as she continued to bounce, shifting her weight from her left foot, to her right, and back to her left. She quickly glanced over her shoulder towards the clock that read just a little past three in the morning. Jane looked back down towards TJ. “Tell me what’s wrong,” she begged.

 

Babies weren’t that easy. Of course they weren’t. If they came into the world being able to talk, being able to tell you what’s wrong, this whole thing would have been a walk in the park, but they don’t. Newborns are capable, however, of paying attention to sounds and being able to recognize the distinct phonemes of the mother’s language. Whereas babies will start babbling between six to eight months, it wouldn’t be until the baby was between nine to eighteen months where it would be able to produce individual words – the holophrasistic stage of first language acquisition.

 

Jane immediately stopped in her tracks, stopped in mid-bounce, and furrowed her eyebrows in slight confusion as to where that bit of spontaneous knowledge came from: did she read it somewhere? Probably not. She barely touched the pregnancy books stacked on her nightstand, given to her by her mother and Maura.

 

 

That’s probably where she heard it. Jane could very clearly see her standing over a corpus in her lab, rambling off this information, as though it was common knowledge, while being up to her elbows in human organs—

 

What was that sound…?

 

Jane frowned slightly.

 

Was it… silence?

 

Jane began to look down, but before she actually could, TJ gurgled. Her shoulders tensed and the rest of Jane’s body went ridged as her chin now dripped curdled, sour milk and – oh God – did it get in her mouth!? Was there really a nasty taste in her mouth or was she just imagining it? She closed her eyes tightly, hoping to God she was just imagining it. She _had_ to just be imagining it.

 

The silence vanished just as quickly as it had arrived. It started off as a soft whimper, but TJ quickly escalated back to loud wails, leaving Jane standing alone in her living room, in the middle of a noise, maybe even a situation, that would soon be a part of her daily routine. Jane could also feel herself slipping. She was falling, perhaps not physically, but Jane could still feel herself sinking. She stood there, at a lost, covered in spit up, with an infant in her arms who just wouldn’t stop crying, despite everything Jane did – and Jane did everything in her power, but he just wouldn’t _stop_.

 

She wasn’t ready for this.

 

And what if she couldn’t be?

 

**xxxx**

 

“He’s sleeping now,” Maura said softly, emerging from Jane’s room to join her on the couch in the living room. Maura was met with silence as Jane stared off into the distance. Jane was grateful though – Maura hadn’t mentioned the empty take-out containers on the coffee table, nothing about Jane’s high sodium intake, or whatever mystery ingredient that could possibly cause her baby to grow three heads.

 

But Maura fidgeted slightly – Jane knew she wanted to say something about it, but she didn’t.

 

“He threw up in my mouth,” Jane finally mumbled. From the corner of her eye, she saw Maura turn to look at her. “This was worse than the first night we had him. At least then, it was just… it was just: bottle, burp, diaper, sleep, bottle, burp, diaper, sleep, bottle-“

 

“This is different, Jane,” Maura began. “Tommy said TJ hadn’t been feeling-“

 

“And it’s _really_ late,” Jane commented, shaking her head. “I shouldn’t have called, but I did – _really_ late – and you came anyway. I would’ve been _pissed_.”

 

“Well, of course I came,” Maura said. “Why wouldn’t I? You needed me.”

 

“Even at three in the morning?”

 

“It’s actually four.”

 

The revelation made Jane’s shoulders fall as she slumped back against the couch, defeated. She sighed heavily and, after a moment, she shook her head. “What if I can’t do this, Maur?”

 

“What makes you say that?”

 

Jane sat up a bit straighter and turned her head slightly to glare at Maura, who seemed completely oblivious. Frowning, Jane gestured over her shoulder, in the general direction of her bedroom. “ _That_.”

 

“ _That_ is nothing to worry about,” Maura commented.

 

“Nothing to worry about?” Jane repeated, exasperated.

 

“No, nothing to worry about,” Maura reaffirmed. “It’s natural to feel overwhelmed, even more so with a sick infant – let me rephrase: how many times have you taken care of TJ without incidents? You should not allow this one, isolated occurrence to determine the overall outcome of your parenting abilities, Jane.”

 

“Well,” Jane mumbled. “What if it _wasn’t_ an isolated occurrence?”

 

“Then, you’ll do exactly what you did tonight: you’ll call me,” Maura replied, as though the answer were obvious. “As I stated a couple weeks ago, it _does_ take a village to raise a child. We’re both part of TJ’s village. Tommy called you, you called me, and here we are taking care of TJ, together. You’ll always have my help, Jane.”

 

“You mean that, Maur?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Even at four in the morning?”

 

“Yes, even at four in the morning.”

 

“Even on a work night?”

 

“We’d have to stop by Boston Joe’s the following morning, for your own sake.”

 

“…rain or shine, sleet or snow?”

 

“I’m a medical examiner, Jane,” Maura reminded. “Not a United States Postal Service worker. I suppose, however, I _would_ honor that specific part of their creed, but when the time does come, you’ll see that you will be an excellent mother.”

 

 A short, small laugh escaped Jane as the corner of her lips tugged into a tiny, faint smirk. “It was a joke,” Jane pointed out as a smiling Maura reached out to place a gentle hand on Jane’s knee. “But, y’know, it kinda turned out to be reassuring.”

 

**End**


End file.
